One Week
by outasync13
Summary: A twist on Beauty and the Beast: FF. FB is much appreciated.


"I have a daughter," the man blubbers. "She's very beautiful, great company. I'll- I'll bring her to you if you let me go, I swear!" I feel my distaste for him growing by the second. Not only has he invaded my property and stolen from me, but also he's willing to sell out his daughter to save his own skin. Also, he has annoyed me because he has assumed, as everyone does, that I'm male. Just because I'm large and hairy doesn't mean I have that extra chromosome.  
  
It's not as though I wasn't expecting him to bargain for his life. I am, after all, holding him four feet in the air by the collar of his shirt. However, I haven't made any motions that would suggest I'm ready to kill him, and I haven't asked for anything.  
  
"And why should I trust your word," I growl, "that you'll bring her back to me?" I'm playing with him and actually enjoying it. "After all, I have you here with me now- not this beautiful daughter of yours." I stress the word beautiful and look him in the eye, challenging him.  
  
"I wouldn't taste good anyway!" he screeches. His thin mustache twitches, and it reminds me of my father. I push the thought away, not able to deal with it at the moment. "I'm too old."  
  
He trails off when I start laughing, which sounds much more menacing coming from my beastly vocal cords. "You'd be brittle, too, you despicable man," I say. "How will I know you'll return with her?" I repeat. The question shocks me seconds later when I realize I'm serious about his offer. I was just going to scare him and let him go, but I've been alone for so long. If this daughter of his could offer some decent company, would it be that horrible of me to take advantage of it for a week or so? I'd let her go, after. I'm willing to bet that if she's his progeny, then she can't have that great of a personality.  
  
"I swear I'll send her," he cries. I finally let him drop so that his feet touch the ground, but I still support his weight. He's lying through his teeth.  
  
"You have a horse with you," I say. "You'll send him back with a note for your daughter, and if she comes, you're free to go. She, however, will stay." His shoulders slump. "If you don't agree, I'll just keep you here, then, for as long as I wish. When I tire of you, then." That scares him. He probably thought I was stupid enough to let him go with a promise, but he's weighing his freedom against his daughter's. Apparently, he's more important.  
  
"I'll send my horse," he says, "but what if my daughter will not come? Surely we can strike some other deal?"  
  
What a worm. "We shall see," I growl. And so he writes a note, and as soon as it is sent off with his horse, I throw him in the dungeon. I hope beyond hope that his daughter loves him, somehow, and that she'll come to save him.  
  
I haven't talked to someone around my age for four years, after all. Not since the day that I became trapped in this wretched body.  
  
--------  
  
I was cursed from the day I was born, and there was nothing I could do about it. My father, a powerful warlock, fell deeply in love with my mother the moment he laid eyes upon her. Apparently, she loved him back as well, although I only know of this from stories. She was just a regular human, and amid protests from both sides of the family, the two wed.  
  
She became pregnant with me shortly after, and everything was going splendidly. When she began to give birth, however, things began to go wrong. With all my father's magic, he couldn't save her, and my entrance into the world marked her departure. My father is not an emotional man, but he loved my mother more than anything. I was the reason that she was taken away from him, and he hated me for it.  
  
To make matters worse, I grew up to be a spitting image of her. My father could hardly look at me, for I reminded him of her terribly. The only feature of his I had were my eyes, a soft hazel that changed with whatever garments I wore.  
  
He sent me off to finishing school as soon as I was old enough, and I only came back for the vacations. I stayed out of his sight as much as possible, knowing that my presence was likely to vex him and make my time miserable. As it was, I only got to talk to the servants and sometimes their children, but everyone regarded me with some level of distance. They were my father's employees, and getting too close to me meant getting on his bad side.  
  
When I was fifteen, I asked my father if a friend of mine from finishing school could come to visit for a week or so. He agreed, probably because it meant I'd have no reason to bug him when she was here, and also because chances were then good for a reciprocal visit. I suppose I was planning on visiting her, too, but I never did get the chance.  
  
We were walking around the house on a rainy afternoon about halfway into her visit, and we decided to go up to the attic. A lot of my father's things were packed away in musty containers up there, but there were a few interesting artifacts scattered around the place. My friend- her name was Kyla- and I looked around for something to occupy ourselves.  
  
Apparently, there was nothing interesting to do, because the next thing I remember, we were in the corner of the attic, kissing each other.  
  
It wasn't the first time. At the finishing school, boredom had bred experimentation; I'd found that my strange impulses in the last few months were shared by at least one of the other girls. Deep down, I knew it was why I'd invited Kyla to visit. I had closer friends at school, but I liked her. We weren't in love, but I definitely enjoyed kissing her.  
  
Unfortunately, our secluded corner was not as secluded as we'd thought, and I tore my lips from hers when I heard a bang from nearby. It was my father, his thin mustache quivering and his face convulsing as he looked at us.  
  
"No daughter of mine," he hissed.  
  
"But." Before I could even explain, he was grabbing his wand out of the cape he insisted on wearing.  
  
"I won't let you wear her face any longer," he continued, and then he mumbled Latin words I can't remember. I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The spell hit me quickly, and I blacked out in a flash of pain.  
  
When I woke up, I was in my current form, and Kyla was nowhere to be found. I don't know what he did to her, but I do know that she returned home safe.  
  
My father took me out to his estate in the woods, where I am now, and cast another spell over the place. If I tried to leave its grounds, I would be stopped. "You will stay in that form," he said, "unless you love someone who will love you back as much, in the form that you are." Clearly, he believed it would never happen.  
  
And with that, he left. I haven't seen him since. 


End file.
